Visions
by LumenIzampel
Summary: Kayle's past, present, and her visions of the future were always a secret, but there is only so much that her memories and dreams can see. [Assorted drabbles; not in chronological order.]
1. Sleep

_A/N: It has been ages since I've written something, so I'm reposting my old drabbles here while I work out my writing for something else. I hope that's fine, and I hope you like it. c:_

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There was something that Kayle misses about her old home back at their world. It was definitely not the grand mansion that barely had anyone in it, or her room that she can barely fill, not even the chairs and tables where she tolerated hours studying on them. If there was something she enjoyed doing back at home aside from serving her people, it would be sleeping. Her work and responsibility gets rather tiring, and it was quite her only escape from reality, or rather, the stress of it.

She missed how warm her bed was; a bed which was not warmed by a fire or hearth, or by magic, but by herself, and her sister, whose daily jobs still allow them to sleep at the same time. Even after growing up, they liked sleeping together in the same bed, with arms and wings around each other, wanting the moment of solitude to last.

In the Institute, there was no such thing. Her bed was fancy, and was made especially for her, considering that she would not be comfortable on a smaller-sized bed, but she only occupies half of the space, with her wings around her to make up whatever warmth the hearth in her room fails to fulfill. At certain times, she even falls flat on the floor, her sleeping self finding something to cling onto. The pain from the fall was more than enough to wake her from the hazy wish that company would be impossible.

There was a certain time, though, where she has found herself the luxury to sleep beside someone else, and those times were some of the most restful nights she had spent in the Institute. Company during the night is welcomed, and cherished, even, especially if it is a close one — not like she would even want to sleep close to someone she barely knew. After all the time she had lived, the mindset of sleep being for the weak was never something she believed.

Of course, there is barely anything to remember in these days, except the warmth she felt, or the breathing she takes and hears, and the somewhat uncomfortable distance between them. But if there was anything she can do to repay the person, it would be to provide them her own warmth, wrapping her wings around them, pulling them a little closer, making them feel more at ease, and at home, even though her own mind is in tangles and knots.

But it's a warmth better than any hearth.


	2. Music

_A/N: I give up posting old writing as it is; I'll edit some things along the way. Some just doesn't seem to fit the other pieces in._

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"This is cool!"

The young Kayle, after skipping around an antique shop and nearly breaking anything porcelain, saw something interesting. It was buried underneath a pile of ceramic and clay vases, and after reaching out for it, got her hands on a sword. Of course, it was blunt — it's meant for display purposes after all. The weapon had a slightly rusted blade due to its age, yet the hilt and the sheathe is still proud with its shining black cover. The young angel grabs it from the other rusting swords in the vase where it lies, unsheathing it and slashing it towards an invisible enemy, as if dancing to the tune that was playing somewhere.

"I am Kayle, and I am a warrior that will defend everyone!" She skipped towards a wider space, placed down her bags for a short while, and raises it up more, like knight play, where the hero is ready to take down her enemies. The music turned up a little more, volume intensifying; Kayle picks up the cue and swings it again to an invisible enemy, effectively swatting out the antique shop cat by accident. "I am a warrior of justice, and I will vanquish the evil, whoever it may be!"

Morgana, who has trailed along after her sister's excited skipping - and the cat's complains from the hit, bonked Kayle in the head lightly. The armed angel quickly complained of the slight pain with a sheepish grin, but pauses at the sight of the music box where the music was coming from, with glass figures twirling in it. "We're here for the music boxes, not to do knight play. Put that down."

"But it's fun!" she whines, regretfully returning the decorative sword in the vase where it came from. "Won't it be nice if one of us was in the military? We'd be everything we want to be! We'd be powerful, and rich, and people will respect us! Like our parents!"

She had always daydreamed to be one of the knights donning shiny armor, killing enemies, and saving people in the process. It was a noble cause; no, they were a noble race. They were born to save people, and that is what she will keep on doing. It was not an original idea, yes, but Kayle would stick to a cliche if it was best for all.

She always wished to be respected.

"ERespect without freedom is nothing," Morgana continued glumly, and set down the music box. "It would come with perks, but it's not worth it, you know? I don't want my life controlled with rules and words written on paper." Kayle always thought how their views differed, but then again they were still young - a few hundred years would surely set her in just the same as she does. Like hard work and penances does. Sure, she does wanted freedom, but it felt useless if it were spent wriggling in a hell hole your very actions made, didn't it?

Then again, maybe she just does not understand it as much as Morgana did. "I will still work hard!" Kayle exclaimed, fists clasped to her chest, like a salute; she later on clears her throat and speaks with a deepened voice, like the very knight she was roleplaying as minutes ago. "Evil is out there! Whoever it may be, it needs to be vanquished! No more traitors, no more fallen, and no more dark magic will plague our lands ever again!"

Her sister said nothing else, but smiles at her sister's strange hyperactivity and walks off with the music box, its tune still playing. Kayle later on notices Morgana's absence and she hurriedly grabs her bag and follows by.

.

Days later, the music box seemed to have broke— with the tune sounded more like tin cans rubbing each other, the song becoming more like a cry for help than a song of safety and peace. Then later on, it ceased to work completely, and the glass figures in it just moved and twirled to the tune they will no longer hear.

Maybe they will, but it will no longer be a song of hope, but of regrets.


	3. Night

First night in the Institute, and Kayle was not happy.

For some reason, she expected that she would be treated a lot more better, for someone her rank. Not to mention that it was evident that she had traveled for long, and with that, she expected them to at least consider her fatigue; she did not expect them to just dump her in the nearest empty room with a bed they could find, with the only instruction being "Sleep, wake up, live, then wait for a match. As simple as that."

Heck, once her papers were finalized and her position in the Tribunal were secured, she's going to find that summoner and suspend him for terrible behavior. But fresh in the pact, she's already having second thoughts on being rude to these hooded figures, and she sighs, feeling every thread out of her scarf. Although her position in the tribunal would give her a perk or two, she's still under a pact, and Kayle already wishes that the hype about her will be done with quickly.

The room felt strangling, the paint over it as if it will come to life and eat her whole. The lamp, not lit by candles or fire, but magic, felt as if it will burn her. The suit of armor laid for her in a frame seemed like a foreign person was wearing it, and she felt as if it will come for her heart as soon as she closes her eyes. For a moment, the suit of armor seemed to move on its own to her direction and Kayle quickly grabs the scarf around her neck and throws it to the armor's direction. The article of clothing slowly drapes on the golden surface and slips to the ground.

_No, Kayle. You're over-thinking._

She breathes in, and out, and in, and out. Suddenly, the thoughts stopped. The suit of armor froze and returned to its frame. She feels relaxed, although the toasty feeling under her clothes still remains. She did not want to remove that, anyway, but she would be welcome on taking off her trench coat, at the very least. She folded it neatly and places it on her nightstand along with the scarf she had previously thrown away. She'd rather burn herself than remove the only thing that keeps her sane and awake to reality.

_It... it hurts._

Even though her fatigue seems to have kept her from sleeping well, still, she falls asleep soon after, with the summoner's word's still in her head. em"Sleep, wake up, and live. That's all you need to do."

And that's what she will do.


	4. Scar

After a reasonable time after the attack, Kayle had gotten away far enough to assess the wounds she have obtained. They were not fatal in any way, or if they were, she has not seen how life-threatening they were, and her mouth and body was covered with the metallic-tasting fluid anyway, making her care naught about the pain.

This time, it was far worse than before. The attacks were far more professional, and obviously planned — confirming her suspicions that it was an inside job. How could such a large group of people, dressed in their uniforms enough to garner a thousand stares, pass through the gates unnoticed? She could have sworn she ordered for the bridges to raise, allowing no angel with the inability of flight to come through.

It was _totally_ an inside job.

Not to mention that with this attack, not only were her guards caught unguarded, but also herself. The dagger that had cut her through vital parts were clutched by her fingers, right on the blade, the pain her only window to reality. She has somehow caught it when a masked rebel had thrown it to her direction, and cut straight through… somewhere.

A few moments passed before she was able to release her grip on the dagger's blade, seeing its pain was enough to keep her awake. She was too focused on running away and making sure her men were safe for her to tend to healing them, and it was all Kayle can do not to care about the scars that would form as soon as they heal.

Right after locking the doors and windows of her office as soon as she hid there, and making sure no one sees her undress, Kayle peels off her coat, drenched in blood, and her undershirt which was too red for her to actually discern which were the unstained parts or not, and piles her dirty clothes right on her table, not caring how important the documents they will stain.

After poking around and wiping off the blood that was starting to smell, she finds one wound that she needed to focus on: a straight cut, right above her collarbone. She felt it was deep enough to kill her — making her wonder why is she not a cold corpse at that moment.

Finding her knees suddenly buckling in fatigue, the pain not enough to keep her awake and kicking, all she manages to do was close the wound before she faints right on her table, scattering the clothes she piled on them and sending all her bloodstained documents flying everywhere.

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_A/N: As soon as I run out of drabbles, I might add some prompts I got before, too. They're strange prompts but heck, I like what weird things I come up with. _


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